ABSTRACT
When I was three years old, the heads of my mother's village invited her to take me to visit them. I can remember the journey very clearly. This was the first time that I had ridden a horse; it was a white one and had belonged to the tenth Trungpa Rinpoche, and when I was told that it had been his, I refused to change it for any other mount: I was put in a little chair saddle. We passed high mountains on the way, and one day we met a herd of about five hundred wild asses (kyang) which trotted around us and this fascinated me. My parents had always loved their own part of the country and its wild animals, so it was a great joy to my mother to get back to her home, and I too thoroughly enjoyed the change.
